Darkness heaved itself into the sky, neon patches of stardust and rosy violets breathing life into the blackness. She wished that she could see in the dark.
Lightning Dust shivered on her cot, that was like a thin pane of ice.
She shut her eyes as tight as she could, but the pain refused to depart.
Along her back were twelve streaks of red, flayed strips of skin stretching the whole of her.
It was a miracle she had evaded having to go to the infirmary. That place resembled something more of a morgue.
The incident happened yesterday, during her typical drudgery in the subterranean mines of the Hellhatch facility. Down there in the dark, nothing dared move in the searchlights. Watchful eyes shone from the tops of wooden terraces, patrolling the red earth, filth and toil below.
She thought herself to be a rather insignificant inmate, able to pass beneath the watchful eyes of the guards without standing out.
She was mistaken.
She thought the comment went unheard, a derogatory remark made at a harassing guard’s expense.
But his ears were sharper than she thought. Twelve lashes with the barbed whip, right in front of everyone.
It was the humiliation more than anything else.
Recovering in her cell, Lightning’s rat acquaintance, Scampers, gifted her with some healing licks, though she was not sure of its effects.
It was the thought that counts, she imagined the rat retorting.
The cages locked onto her wings were beginning to tear deeper into her skin after extended use, and she yearned for the freedom to fly again.
Though she desperately needed rest for her mutilated back, fate had other plans.
“Hey kid,” whispered a voice from outside the cell, forty minutes until lights-out.
Lightning lifted her head from her cot, groggily.
Sunset Shimmer nodded for Lightning to follow her, and the injured pegasus was vexed to oblige.
The cells did not lock until lights-out, as inmates often had responsibilities that lasted into the waning hours of the day.
Sunset led Lightning towards an unfamiliar storage closet on the second level.
“How’s it unlocked?” Lightning whispered, nervously checking her shoulder for any lurking guards.
She had been punished enough for one day.
“Basket Case got a key somehow.”
Lightning supposed Sunset meant the curly-haired earth pony, Wallflower.
“I thought you were out?”
Sunset shook her head.
“I guess I couldn’t leave you all for dead,” Sunset muttered, just as she reached the door to the closet.
Inside, Lightning saw Suri, Starlight, Trixie, and Wallflower, all standing uncomfortably close to each other in the tight space. Cleaning supplies and boxes of junk filled the closet. Sunset shut the door behind them.
“Good, you’re here,” Starlight said.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lightning replied, half-sarcastically.
“I got the job in the library,” Starlight announced, while Suri began fiddling with the locks attached to Lightning’s wing restraints.
“Starlight...you really think now is the time for intellectual stimulation?” Trixie said.
“I did it so I could pressure the library board into getting a new delivery of books. The delivery carriage won’t be familiar, we’ll have an easier time using it to escape than one of the regular carriages. It'll be just as well-supplied as any of the others. Plus, we’ll know exactly when it arrives.”
Suri tilted her head, slightly skeptical.
“When will it arrive?”
“Once I make the request - about ten days from now. Until then, we’ll have to hang on. Wallflower’s key will get us inside the laundromat passage, then Lightning will fly through the traps and switch them off. Suri, you’ll have the bomb to get us above ground. Sunset, Trixie, you’ll be getting those keys off the warden.”
“Easier said than done,” Sunset said.
“It’s not going to be easy, but we’ve got to try,” Starlight said.
The others nodded along, albeit hesitantly.
“Say we do make it out...Where do we go, exactly?” Wallflower asked.
Starlight had not thought that far ahead yet.
“Anywhere but here.”
Dawn crept like a lion unto its prey, and with it light devoured the ivory city of Canterlot, which reeked of an astringent gloom.
Behind the royal palace walls, Twilight Sparkle had fallen upon her marble throne, rubbing the exhaustion out of her eyes. Shadows and stain glass held dominion over the throne room, which felt cold and lifeless.
“We shouldn’t even be here,” said a dark cyan changeling bearing a luminous silver crown, “There’s enough of a threat without us stooping past our own lands.”
“Pharynx,” Twilight rebuked, with an irritated scowl, “I promise you this will be over soon. I only wanted to make sure the both of you are doing alright. You and all the creatures you protect."
Beside the cantankerous Pharynx was an olive hippogriff with a wavy orchid mane. Her bright violet eyes were locked onto the floor, and she could barely open her mouth to speak.
“They’re scared,” Ocean Flow said, though it came barely as a whisper. Her face was drained of color, and her eyes were dry from lost tears. Her mane was unkempt, and though she wore her sister Novo’s crown, she felt none of its pride nor grandeur.
“Of course they’re scared. They’re restless, too, because nothing has been done to rectify this!” Pharynx seethed.
“We’re doing everything we possibly can.”
Pharynx shook his head, incredulously.
“This was no ordinary honorless bilge rat who was slaughtered in your town like some beast. He was their king! He was good, he was kind, and they killed him! I’m not waiting around for this to blow over, your highness,” Pharynx snarled with great contempt, “I’ll have to consult Celestia and Luna on this, they’ll know what to do.”
Twilight shuddered slightly.
“That won’t be necessary...I spoke with them just today. They understand the situation and are cooperating with the investigation to the best of their ability. I know this is difficult for you. I know how much your brother meant to you. But this is not an easy case to solve. You have to trust me, when I say this will be made right. But I’ll need both of your help to do it. I want you both to remain in the capital for a while, to help sort everything out.”
“Of course, your highness,” Ocean Flow said, raising her head suddenly.
Twilight nodded approvingly, until she noticed Pharynx’s hesitation.
“You’ll have our cooperation...For now,” Pharynx said, gritting his teeth in frustration.
Twilight appreciated his compromise, leaving them both with a welcoming smile.
From the sleek silver-tipped spires of the Crystal Empire’s royal palace, a murder of black ravens took flight.
Cadance, peering out from the window of her royal carriage, presumed those birds to be the same ones that had delivered the news to the city, the news of eight terrible deaths.
She trembled in her seat.
The air was brittle like ice, despite it being a summer’s day.
He was gone, she kept telling herself. Thorax was gone.
She supposed a proper goodbye would have allowed her to make peace with it, somehow. But how could she have expected such horror? Who ever could?
She arrived at her palace gate around midday, while the sun was still wrapped in a blanket of shadowy clouds. A storm was brewing over the mountains, streaks of purple lightning scarring the dismal sky in the distance. She would check behind her shoulder almost every step; ceaselessly she could feel a shadow stalking behind her, and eyes watching her from every direction.
Only when she made it up to the twelfth story vestibule of her palace, was she at last able to take a breath.
“Did you get back alright?”
Shining Armor’s voice caught Cadance by surprise, as he strolled into the vestibule from another corridor.
Cadance’s eyes shot right through her concerned husband, scanning the darkened doorway behind him.
“Is Flurry safe?” Cadance asked, her voice quivering.
Shining Armor was baffled.
“....Yeah, she's fine. I just put her to bed. Are you alright?” he asked. She had not been this erratic since the first few months after giving birth.
Cadance felt like fainting, and she turned away from him.
“You’ve heard what’s happened,” Cadance said.
Shining Armor had not been aware that Cadance knew yet, and was relieved. He hated to be the bearer of tragic news.
“Yeah. I heard. I would’ve made the funeral, y'know, but things were a kinda crazy up here while you were gone. I couldn’t leave,” he explained.
Cadance sighed.
“I missed it too. I wanted to get back here, as fast as possible. But the trains were all stalled.”
Shining Armor silently offered her a comforting embrace, which she promptly accepted.
Burying her chin deep in his shoulder, her body felt lighter than usual, and she disappeared into him.
“Tell me we’ll be OK…” Cadance said, though she was so choked it came only as a whisper.
"We're gonna be OK,” Shining Armor said. Though, he could not admit he too had been feeling anxious for days. Bronze Beam had been an old boot camp buddy of Shining Armor’s, and if he could not stand a chance against this mysterious foe, Shining Armor feared he would fare no differently. If it came to that.
Cadance got control of herself, pulling herself away and trotting towards the carpeted center of the vestibule.
“I spoke with Twilight...And I’m worried about her,” Cadance said, “This is a dangerous threat we’re dealing with. I don’t know if she’s ready to handle it.”
Shining Armor glanced off to the side, finding himself at a conflict of interest.
“She has a good heart,” he said, nodding to himself, “She’ll do her job.”
Cadance hoped he was correct.
“They could go after Flurry next...We have to take every precaution,” Cadance said.
“Berry and Esther are posted beside her bed as we speak. I won’t be taking any chances.”
Cadance smiled.
“I need to get some rest, I’m exhausted.”
Shining Armor nodded in agreement.
“I’ve got to talk to Hardball, he’s got some ideas for fortifying the city walls. Nopony will get inside the city without me knowing.”
Cadance nodded, before watching him take off towards the stairwell.
She sighed again, and sauntered over to her bedroom nearby.
She swung open the door and stepped inside the lavish chamber, dreaming of descending beneath the covers of her own bed.
“Finally."
Cadance shrieked in surprise, at the cryptic voice calling out to her from the darkness.
The flip of a doorside switch revealed him, a grizzly grey griffin with a hardened face and piercing eyes.
“Gore?!” Cadance said, shocked.
Gore nodded, gently, and they both recalled a particular Canterlot gala many moons ago, when the two were first acquainted.
“How are you here? Why are you here?” Cadance said, her horn beginning to glow a violent electric blue.
Gore backed away, though did not lift his hostile exterior.
“Not to do you or your family any harm, if that’s a concern.”
Cadance, however, did not believe him, maintaining her defensive stance.
“I only came to ask you a question or two," Gore explained, "I’ve been made aware you spoke with Princess Twilight just a few days ago. How did this meeting come about?”
Cadance sputtered, lowering her guard in utter confusion.
“Agents, from the Emergency Service, they warned me I was in danger. This was before anypony knew of what happened. So I visited her. Twilight. Just to see if she needed any help.”
“And what did she say to you?”
“She told me the truth. Of what happened to Thorax and all those poor creatures.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. That's all," Cadance snapped, "What are you after, exactly?”
Gore’s eyes were invasive, and his glare was so forceful it was as if he was studying every nuance to Cadance’s own expression.
“Conducting an investigation.”
“On who? Me? Twilight? You’ve got to be insane, to think-”
“I don’t think anything yet. I’m only looking for information. And no creature, not even a royal one, is to be counted out as a suspect.”
Cadance was not sure whether he was referring to Twilight, or herself.
“If that’s all you have for me, then I’m sorry for the disturbance.”
Gore made his way towards the exit, walking around a still-befuddled Cadance.
“Oh, and, you might want to make this place a bit more secure,” Gore said, with a hint of a grin, "If I could get in, our killer will have an easy time making quick work of you."
He left Cadance alone in the room, forced to confront her own doubts of the ponies she thought she could trust with her life.
It could be anybody.
She shook her head back and forth, refusing to give any ground to such devastating accusations.
In more pleasant times, he would have been able to enjoy the cigarette stuck between his teeth. But it was instead a necessary supplement, an antidote to the dogged stress that gnawed at him day and night.
Alias was facing down a large window, glaring down at his subordinates in the control center below, who were frantically rummaging through files and equipment.
“Sir.”
Alias turned from the window, grimacing at the withdrawn pony stumbling in from the conference room door.
The pony, a white earth pony with jet black hair called Eight Ball, flipped on the lights to the room, causing Alias to wince in dismay.
Eight Ball chose not to wait for a response, assuming he would not be receiving one.
“The draconequus is still being interrogated. We’re running out of vincula fuel, we won’t be able to restrain his magic for much longer,” Eight Ball reported.
“Consider it a miracle we brought him in at all,” Alias said, “What's he been saying?”
“He’s denying everything," Eight Ball said, flatly, "Even the things that are true.”
“Typical.”
“If my opinion means anything, sir-”
“It doesn’t.”
“But if it did...I don’t believe the draconequus is responsible. There’s no motive, no reward, no plausibility,” Eight Ball argued.
“Lucky for us it’s not your job to make those kinds of judgments. Go and take a look at his track record.”
“Sir, we’re all familiar with his track record. Including the part where he’s become an ally.”
“Ally?” Alias said, incredulously, “How many times has he sold himself as such, just to turn his cloak and nearly bring about the end of Equestria? This is no different. I don't trust him because he is not trustworthy.”
“This is different. Nothing like this has ever happened before. It’s not like him to do this. There has to be a point.”
Alias was about to fire back, but stopped short of himself, realizing that perhaps Eight Ball was correct.
“Regardless of his innocence, I want constant surveillance once he’s set free. We haven’t got many leads,” Alias said.
“And, sir...What of the escaped subject from Level 14?” Eight Ball asked.
The incident had nearly slipped Alias’ mind.
“What do you think? I want it found, and either brought back here or destroyed. Alert every detachment in a twenty mile radius. If Twilight finds it...we'll all be compromised.”
“Yes sir.”
Eight Ball nodded his head and shuffled out of the room, leaving Alias once more in a heap of frustration.
“Where are you?” he muttered to himself.
The killer was a ghost, a phantom, and perhaps they only sought to create a little chaos before their return to the shadows.
His scowl hardened, and he knew the killer could not evade him forever.
Nopony ever had.
Kickstart staggered into Ponyville half-dead, collapsing in the grass as the last of his strength escaped him. It had been two days since he escaped the Erased's laboratories, and he had not gotten a wink of sleep between them.
He sighed in relief, and quickly attempted to get some much-needed sleep. He drifted off to the sound of the trees billowing in the wind, and his scowl loosened, and his stiff shoulders fell back. The scars on his body disappeared then, and he could feel none of the pain any longer.
“...Hey mister, you alright?”
Kickstart opened his eyes and practically fell off the wooden bench, when the voice of a middle-school aged girl called out to him from near the treeline. He glanced up at her, a scrappy little thing with an orange coat and a short, wavy purple mane.
“Never better," he replied, hardly lifting his head off the ground.
The girl tilted her head skeptically, and studied him.
“I don’t recognize you," she said, "You’re not from around here, are you?”
He almost had to laugh; he did not even know where here was. This was not his home, he was sure of that, at least. But where was home? All tried to remember it all, the fireplace in the family room, the bus route to school, but the only images he could form in his head were of needles and wires and wrenches and scalpels.
The girl's brow furrowed as she watched him struggle up off the grass.
Only then did she notice the strange scars and marks on his body. She winced, as so many often did when they saw him. Around his neck was a half-healed gash that made it look as though he had survived a trip to the gallows, and all around his ribs, chest, and back were rune-like incisions made in symmetrical patterns.
Your sacrifice is saving lives, is what they would tell him.
“Well, if you're down on your luck, I could at least show you around town," the girl offered, "You look like you'd do well to get some food in you, some sleep too."
Kickstart's eyes darted back towards her.
"Who are you?" he asked.
“I’m Scootaloo,” the girl said, waving for him to join her, "And you?"
Subject #67, he thought at once. But he corrected himself first, "Kickstart. Look kid, I don't plan on staying here very long, and I can make do on my own, so..."
"No," Scootaloo said, "C'mon, our food's not that bad. Come and see for yourself, at least."
Kickstart sighed and relented, following after the filly towards the proper town limits of Ponyville.
“I guess it's not my business, but...What happened to you?" Scootaloo asked, curious, "It looks like you caught a firework to the face."
"Something like that," he replied, while he ignored the stares of pony passerbys. Let them look.
“...Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Scootaloo said, embarrassed, before regaining her composure, “Y'know, it’s a little weird. We don't get many newcomers, not for the past couple weeks.”
“In that case, I'm expecting some special treatment," he laughed.
Scootaloo gave him an odd look.
“What?"
“Do you live under a rock? Don’t you know what happened here?” she stammered.
Kickstart said nothing.
“No, kid, I really don’t know. What are you getting at?"
“Really?”
“Really,” Kickstart said, and he was beginning to get agitated.
Scootaloo’s gaze was suddenly caught by something behind Kickstart.
Kickstart, who was still relatively paranoid of having been found by his former captors, swiveled around, to discover nothing but the weekday streets of Ponyville.
He had not realized he had been tricked until a split second before Scootaloo whacked him over the head. Her weapon was a rock, which she had been holding onto since she first spotted Kickstart sleeping on that bench.
Kickstart collapsed to the ground, out cold, leaving Scootaloo in a state of childlike jubilation.
“I got him! I got him!” she exclaimed, "I got the killer!"
Kickstart slowly awoke in a red daze. The bloody gash on his head wrapped in cheap bandages did little to quell the aching pain.
“Oh, c'mon,” he despaired, "I mean, c'mon! That fucking kid..."
“Here he is,” said a pony as he opened the door to what had to be the interrogation room at the Ponyville police station, and was followed by three others.
The first was a policepony, dressed in blue, an earth pony with a short auburn mane and steely blue eyes. The second was a short-statured earth pony, with a light mossy green coat and a thin dark brown mane. The third was a tan earth pony mane with a wispy grey mane and a pair of bifocals resting on her snout. And lastly was Scootaloo, bearing a gloating grin.
“Close the door, kid,” the auburn-haired pony ordered.
Scootaloo complied.
“Where’d you say you found him?” asked the green pony.
Kickstart narrowed his eyes at the green pony, recognizing him somehow.
“Folly Lick Field," Scootaloo replied.
"Well done, Scootaloo," Mayor Mare smiled.
"Yes, well done Scootaloo," Kickstart mocked.
"Quiet," Mayor Mare hissed.
“You might just make the front page of the paper with a find like this, kiddo,” said the auburn-haired pony, "Has he got a name?"
Subject #67. No, he thought, no, that's not my name.
“Kickstart. My name is Kickstart," he said, "And if you think this is gonna be enough to hold me, you've got another thing comi-"
Before he could finish, the green stallion smashed his hoof into his face.
“You do yourself a favor and keep your mouth shut unless I ask you a question," said the auburn-haired pony, "We’re gonna figure out who you are, and what you're doing here. I’m Holster, I’m the Ponyville Deputy Sheriff. You’ll be cooperating with me if you want to get out of here as fast as possible.
Kickstart wrestled against his hoof cuffs, which he was already grinding against each other. After years of planning that escape, he knew a thing or two of getting out of cuffs.
"Your medical records were quite unusual," Mayor Mare said, "Your mother and father. Was one of them a unicorn?"
Kickstart glanced up at her, thrown off by the question.
"You want to know my blood type, too?" he laughed, "Why the fuck does it matter to you?"
"It's only....Mr. Kickstart, after a scan, we've found prominent traces of what can only be unicorn magic, coursing through your nervous system, your blood, your bone marrow. Nurse Redheart has never seen anything quite like it."
Kickstart noticed the green pony glaring at him, and he became restless in his restraints.
"A magical hybrid-pony covered in bruises and scars comes waltzing into our town. Why? For some unfinished business?" Holster wondered.
"I want him to be held here in your charge, Deputy," Mayor Mare said, "Until the specialists from Canterlot come down to conduct a more thorough investigation. There seems to be a strong chance that this is the pony we're looking for."
"Oh, don't smirk at me you geriatric cunt," Kickstart spat, "I can't wait to wipe that fucking smile off that pinched fucking face, you hear me? Oh, yeah, laugh it up, just wait until I-"
The green pony smacked him across the jaw.
"Deputy, Ms. Mayor, if it’s no trouble, I’d like to speak with our friend alone for a moment,” the green pony asked.
Holster seemed disappointed, as if he had more to say first.
“...Be quick,” Holster said, ushering Scootaloo out of the room. She flashed Kickstart a prideful smirk, before she, the mayor, and the deputy disappeared around the door.
Once the door was closed, the green pony’s gentle smile dropped completely.
“You’re in a worse spot than you think, #67.”
Kickstart felt his heart skip a beat. Shit.
“Yeah. You know me, don’t you? Gin’s what they call me."
"Careful, pal, they could be listening," Kickstart grinned, glancing around the room, "Them, the ominous they. I got under your skin so bad you're blowing your cover out in the open? That's rich."
"I thought I'd be bored to death here in Ponyville," Gin said, ignoring him, "Then I got the message that you'd escaped, I thought, the dumb bastard, he’s walking into a hell-storm and he doesn’t even know it…”
“What the hell happened here?" Kickstart asked, "If you plan on framing me for a crime, the least you could do is tell me what I'm supposed to have done."
“They’re really convinced that you’re the national fugitive everypony's after. The murders happened in this town.”
"Murders?" Kickstart repeated, "Why should that bother you? Blackcoats murder ten ponies a day, at least."
"Creatures like you aren't ponies, anymore, #67. These Ponyville folks think you've come to add some more victims to your tally. Mr. Deputy thinks I’m with the Investigative Bureau. And I’ll let him keep thinking that, and maybe even plant some evidence to pin everything on you, hand you over to be put to the stake...or...you can come with me, willingly, and we’ll go back to Canterlot, get you back where you belong, and be done with this whole incident.”
Kickstart’s breathing was dangerously quick, as he continued wrestling with his hoof cuffs. Genever’s boorish glare made it difficult to focus.
“Hate to disappoint you, but I'm not your fucking lab rat anymore. I don’t belong there.”
Genever laughed.
“You don’t belong anywhere. One step outside and you’re already back behind bars again. Get it through your head - you died a long time ago, #67. It was us who stitched the pieces back together, and turned you into what you are now. You are property of the Erased, and we're going to have you back. Things are a little precarious out there, in case you haven't noticed. And the last thing anypony needs is you running amuck stirring up more trouble."
Taking advantage of Genever’s temporary overconfidence, Kickstart lunged forward with all his might, managing to break apart the twisted cuffs, severing the chainlink in half.
He tackled Genever from across the table sitting between them, stepping over his ribs to reach the door.
Genever grunted in agony, unable to stop Kickstart from bursting through the door to the corridor outside.
“Stop him!” Genever bellowed from the ground.
Kickstart sprinted down the maze of hallways in the police station, as officers escaped their cubicles and began to give chase.
In the lobby, Kickstart took flight, shoving past two guards attempting to block his path. Holster was right on his tail, with a mob of officers behind him.
“We want him alive,” Holster ordered.
Kickstart sprang out from the front doors of the station, gliding over the steps where Scootaloo was sitting off to the side.
Her jaw dropped at the sight, and she quickly followed after him, through a winding alleyway down towards the outskirts of town.
“Stop!”
Kickstart never looked back, trembling as he evaded every hazard lying in his path.
Scootaloo could only keep up with him thanks to her scooter, and they had long ditched the disadvantaged officers back at the station.
Kickstart arrived at the edge of the Ponyville borders, coming face to face with an ominous treeline that reeked of evil.
Deciding he had no better choice, he continued his escape into the forest, terribly out of breath.
Scootaloo saw him break through the treeline, and caught up as fast as her scooter could go.
She ditched her beloved scooter in the grass, and sought to chase him down on hoof.
But she knew it was unwise to go through the Everfree Forest alone, and hesitated before she could take a step through.
It’s all up to me.
She mustered up all the courage she had, and thought of what her heroes would do if they were here.
Gritting her teeth, she dove into the brush, hoping to find and stop Kickstart before he could evade justice.
Nopony will suspect a thing.
For days, Starlight continued adapting each meticulous detail of the escape plan, and the longer she had to prepare herself, the stronger her resolve became.
Two-and-a-half weeks since she had first arrived, it was a typical Thursday labor cycle. Lightning was stuck in the mines, Trixie in the factory, Sunset in the mailroom, Suri in the kitchen, Starlight and Wallflower in the laundromat.
But that day would be anything but typical.
As Starlight had discovered, Lightning would have the first shift in the cafeteria all day, as would Starlight, Wallflower, Trixie, and Suri, all at the same time, for the first time in fact.
“You’ve got the keycard, right?” Starlight asked Wallflower, catching her by surprise in the foodline.
“Of course,” Wallflower said, feeling around the imprint of the keycard stuffed in her obnoxiously tight jumpsuit.
“Pick up your food, and then follow me,” Starlight instructed.
Wallflower shot her a look of confusion.
“Wait, we’re doing it now?”
Starlight stared at her, afraid to nod ‘yes’ for fear of somepony seeing. She was anxious to keep everything as secretive as possible. Before it was too late, at least.
“What about Sunset?” Wallflower asked, after taking a moment to set everything straight in her head.
“...I don’t want to leave her behind...But we may never get a chance like this, all together, for a long while. When our carriage may no longer be available. It has to be today.”
Wallflower dreaded making an enemy of Sunset, especially when considering how she was treated when they were actually on the same side.
“...OK,” Wallflower said, raising her head, feigning some courage.
“Tonight. At dinner. I’ll find you.”
Snow fell over the leftover black corpses of inmates, long-exposed to the harsh elements. Ice made for a miserable coffin.
Inside, around one drafty corridor of the prison, Lightning Dust was sauntering back towards her prison cell, while Starlight, Trixie, and Wallflower were alongside her, speaking in subdued whisperings.
“Lightning, do you know where the keys to your wings are?” Starlight asked.
Lightning thought long and hard.
“...Oh, yeah. The chief has ‘em. Duck.”
Trixie let out an aggressive chortle, stopping herself short with a hoof to her own mouth.
“What kind of name is Duck?” said Trixie, still holding back laughter.
“I don’t know his real name. That’s what everypony calls him. His voice is like that one cartoon duck. It’s a riot.”
“He’s got the keys?” Starlight asked.
“Sure as a stratocumulus,” Lightning declared.
Starlight stared at her blankly.
“That means yes,” Lightning rolled her eyes.
“And the warden’s got the keys to our horns?” Trixie asked.
“That’s right,” Starlight said.
“So we need to get the keys for her wings? We’ll need those first before we even start,” Wallflower pointed out.
Starlight smirked.
“Then let’s get to it.”
********************************************************************************************
Sgt. Ampersand, otherwise known as ‘Duck’ by the inmates and an unfortunately large number of fellow guards, had just finished making his rounds for the day, before he planned on taking a much-needed nap.
‘Those inmates don’t have it much worse than we do,’ he thought, stumbling towards his barracks. It was freezing cold, as usual, and he had little in the way of pleasantries to make his life any more bearable. He might as well be a prisoner too, he often said to himself. But now his shift was over, and nothing could possibly ruin it anymore.
“Excuse me, sir!”
Rushing up to block his path on a spindly catwalk teetering over a deep mineshaft, was a strange blue unicorn inmate, with a ridiculous, off-putting smile.
“You’re not on my block,” Duck muttered, glancing off to the side as if to say ‘move, get out of the way.’
“No, oh, I’m so sorry! I just needed your help is all. My own block chief’s gone somewhere. And there’s an emergency over this way, there really is!” the unicorn wailed.
He was utterly oblivious, when a curly-haired earth pony with an unusual talent for going unnoticed snuck behind him and reached to unhook the ring of keys from his belt.
“What kind of emergency?”
“Trouble! Ponies fighting, kicking! Teeth on the floor! There’s blood everywhere! It’s a madhouse, you’ve got to come quick!” the unicorn begged.
He was about to answer her, until he heard the rattling of keys sound off from behind him.
He spun around, and caught Wallflower Blush red-hoofed holding onto his keys.
“What the-!”
But before he could alert anypony, Trixie came smashing a foodtray over his head, sending him tumbling to the floor.
“You belong on Broadway,” Wallflower said.
Trixie smiled, struggling to keep herself from gloating of her triumph.
“Let’s get out of here,” Trixie said, leading Wallflower away from the scene.
********************************************************************************************
At dinner, the typical crowd came filing in; buggers and brutes of varying size, shape, and intensity; all of them a miserable folk with little hope for freedom. Should hell exist, it could not be much better than here.
Starlight sat with Suri, Wallflower, Lightning, and Trixie at a corner-edge table, still missing Sunset. Lightning had brought Scampers the rat with her, hiding him under the table to feed him her scraps.
“We all know what to do?” Starlight asked.
Lightning nodded, as did Wallflower and Suri. Trixie, however, seemed less agreeable.
“Why do I have to be the distraction?”
“Because you’re distracting,” Suri answered.
“We won’t be able to get past the guards unless they’ve got their hooves tied with something else,” Starlight elaborated.
Starlight glanced at the guards posted by the exits, making sure she could not be heard.
“When you get out of here, you’ve got to get those keys to our horns off of Steel Shackle. And find Sunset, if you can,” Starlight said, “Got it?”
Trixie nodded, though still felt she was being dealt the worse hand.
“Hey, cheer up. At least you’re not the one flying through the tunnel of certain death,” Lightning said, snickering.
Trixie sighed.
Starlight placed a hoof on her shoulder, and leaned in closer.
“I know you can do it,” Starlight said, as Trixie turned her head away in shame, “You told me you weren’t a hero. I don’t believe you. Now’s the time to prove it to yourself.”
Trixie could feel her heart racing, and she rose from her seat suddenly, and nodded eagerly, as if she had made a miraculous discovery.
“I’ve got this,” Trixie said, and Starlight nodded back.
Trixie brought her tray of food with her, and immediately made her way towards the center tables of the cafeteria.
But, in passing by a group of four ponies, she went out of her way to trip, lift her tray and dump its contents on the nearest pony. The pony shrieked in horror, her face covered in muck.
Trixie ducked down to the ground, right as the soiled pony blindly began growling and throwing the bowl of grey paste she was eating, across the room.
The bowl landed in another pony’s lap, welcomed by a harping squeal, followed by a beastly declaration of war.
The cafeteria devolved into madness in less than a minute, and Starlight and the others could not help but be impressed.
“She’s still got it,” Starlight said.
“Can we go now?” Lightning asked.
Starlight checked her back, and was relieved to see the doorside guards leave their posts to attempt to break up the cluttered brawl breaking out.
“Stay out of sight,” Starlight said, before leading the others down the exit corridor.
Starlight, Suri, Wallflower, and Lightning, who was carrying Scampers on her back, all crept through the shadowy corridors of the prison until they arrived at the double swinging doors of the laundromat.
The laundromat was completely empty, to Starlight’s relief.
Starlight hung back by the doors while the others filed in, and, checking one last time to make sure they were clear, she quietly shut them.
“I’ll keep time. Remember. Five seconds,” Starlight warned.
Lightning took a deep breath, following Starlight and the others down the short staircase to the sunken laundromat.
Suri began undoing Lightning’s wing locks using the keys stolen off of Duck, while the pegasus avoided thinking too much about how painful it would be if she did not make it through the tunnel in time.
Lightning handed Scampers over to Starlight, hoping he would be kept safe should she not make it.
Wallflower wasted no time approaching the vault keypad.
“The code is on here too,” Wallflower explained.
Lightning, her wings free again, took her mark in front of the vault door, and she did not realize her legs were trembling slightly.
“Don’t be nervous, you’ve got it,” Starlight said.
“I know I’ve got it,” Lightning snapped.
“Ready?...” Wallflower asked, holding the combination in her head.
They waited for Lightning’s reply, though the pegasus was stone silent. Lightning was fidgeting, and had trouble concentrating on the vault door in front of her.
“I knew she couldn’t do it,” Suri snarled, “We ought to find a different pegasus, this one’s clearly not fit for it.”
Lightning’s apprehensions dissipated, instead now enraged.
“Do it.”
Suri glanced at Starlight with a self-congratulatory smirk.
“Three….” Wallflower began.
Lightning spread her wings, and flapped each a few times to build some momentum back. Weeks of inactivity had weakened them, certainly, though Lightning was sure she would still be able to fly as normal.
Mostly sure.
“Two….”
Lightning avoided making eye contact with the others. She had to convince herself this was personal: just her and the tunnel. All she had to do was clear it. Just an ordinary obstacle.
Except one mistake means the last mistake I’ll ever make.
Lightning wiped her nose, and took one last inhale.
“One!”
54834
“Go!” Wallflower said, right as a green light came on above the vault door, which promptly swung open to the side.
Lightning took flight, darting through the now-opened tunnel.
The tunnel was lit only by dim service lights, and was winding in seemingly random directions, generally heading downwards.
“Three seconds,” Wallflower announced, and Starlight could feel her heart race.
Lightning sped through the musty air of the tunnel, focusing only on flapping her wings as fast as possible.
Don’t slow down.
One mistake, one slip, and Lightning knew she would be killed.
But it was too late to turn back.
Lightning was counting the seconds in her head, but she could not see any light ahead of her. She was panicking, which she knew never helped her focus. Practically in tears, she forced every muscle in her body to fall in line with a single directive: do not stop.
“That’s time!” Wallflower exclaimed, and, right on cue, she, Starlight, and Suri all jumped back in fright when hundreds of spinning, razor-sharp spiked wheels shot up from all directions within the tunnel, buzzing in furious, flesh-obliterating circles.
“Lightning?!” Starlight screamed, terrified that Lightning had been sliced to bits.
There was no response.
After a silent minute of shock, they were again caught off guard when the razors suddenly stopped, and retracted back inside the tunnel walls.
“You’re clear!” came Lightning’s voice from deep down in the tunnel.
Lightning, having just located the safety switch in the maintenance duct, was gasping for breath as if it was her first. She had barely escaped the razors by the time she made it past the tunnel’s edge, landing in a small box-like room lit by red light, with control switches, dials, and ventilation access points.
Her wings were cut up severely, as was the rest of her body. One particularly gruesome cut slashed open her foreleg, which was bleeding profusely. She groaned in pain, and as soon as she yelled to the others, she collapsed back to the floor.
“Suri, have you got the bombs?” Starlight asked.
Suri raised up the three makeshift bombs she and Trixie had managed to craft, using kitchen supplies and factory parts.
“Use those carefully,” Starlight instructed.
“I never waste material,” Suri insisted, pompously.
“And take the rat too,” Starlight said, handing Scampers over to Suri. The rat seemed anxious, as if it too was uncertain whether Lightning was alive or not.
“I am not touching that disease-ridden vermin,” Suri scoffed.
Starlight ignored her, shoving the rat in her hooves.
“Wallflower, send her down.”
Wallflower obliged, reaching over for a thirty-yard strip of tied jumpsuits she had prepared earlier that day.
Wallflower tossed the makeshift rope down the tunnel, and tied it tautly to a nearby pipe bending out from the wall.
Suri grabbed onto the rope, the bombs stuffed in her poorly-stitched bag and Scampers the rat digging his claws into her foreleg. She took one last look at the others, before descending down into the depths, disappearing into the darkness.
Trixie slipped out from the cafeteria brawl with ease, dodging trays of muck and utensils being thrown across the room. The guards were too preoccupied with the frenzy to notice her, as she broke through the exit doors as subtly as possible.
Trixie correctly assumed Sunset would still be in the mailroom, shredding a pile of letters that would otherwise be sent to inmates.
She peeked her head inside the mailroom door, but immediately retreated, when she spotted a guard lounging right around the corner. His eyes had been closed, though she was not prone to take such a chance. She had seen Sunset inside too, rifling through other ponies’ mail.
After muttering a slew of curses under her breath, she doubled-downed once more.
“Sunset,” Trixie whispered from the doorway of the mailroom.
Luckily for her, Sunset was close enough to the door to hear.
“Come on,” Trixie whispered, motioning with her hoof for Sunset to follow.
Sunset ignored the sleeping guard and trotted right out of the mailroom, following Trixie around a corner.
“What’s the matter?” Sunset asked.
“It’s on. Right now. We’ve got to go,” Trixie said, beginning to pick up the pace.
“What’s now? Wait. You mean, now? Right now?” Sunset stammered.
“That’s what I’m telling you!”
“Hey!” yelled the sleeping guard from inside the mailroom, having just been awoken.
But right as he sprang outside to find his missing worker, he instead received a rock directly to the face, bludgeoning his nose and spinning him around two times.
He collapsed in a stack of once-neatly organized mail.
Trixie ran back to the mailroom to ensure the guard was incapacitated, before turning to the other workers inside.
“Everypony! They can’t stop us all! The guards are running! We’re winning! Get out there and help!” Trixie exclaimed, before rushing off to rejoin Sunset.
“You’re crazier than I thought,” Sunset said, mildly impressed.
The two of them broke into a sprint, realizing that they were now on a deadline.
“When we get there, we’ll have to be stealthy,” Sunset said, “Can you do that?”
“Oh yeah. Stealth is my middle name,” Trixie said, as the two of them raced along a high-raised catwalk.
The two of them were caught by surprise when a large group of prisoners came spilling out from below on the ground level. The prisoners had weapons, from clubs to rocks to sharp spikes. They appeared to be enraged, storming forth with an unquenchable fury towards the front foyer.
“Looks like your little insurrection took off,” Sunset said, “Good thing too. The guards will be busy mowing them down, they won’t even notice us slip right out of here.”
“That wasn’t what I meant to happen,” Trixie said, though she supposed it actually was. Still, she hated to think she would be the cause for anypony being seriously hurt, or, even worse, killed.
Sunset’s eyes lit up, when they finally arrived at Steel Shackle’s very own all-glass office perched in the center of the maze of catwalks on Level 2.
“He’s got the keys,” Sunset said, and a vengeful smile clawed its way onto her face. She and the warden had never gotten along, naturally. Now was the time to get even.
“Looks like we’re in luck,” Sunset said, smirking, “He’s asleep.”
Steel Shackle was leaning back in his office chair, his eyes shut and his mouth hanging open. Sunset had never known the warden to sleep; she would often hear him patrolling the halls in the dead of night, taunting his captured prey.
Sunset glanced at Trixie, who was beginning to let her nerves get the better of her. They were crouching behind a catwalk railing a few yards away from the office door.
“Let’s get this over with. Stay here, make sure there’s no guards around,” Sunset said, standing up and making her way towards the office.
Sunset kept a steady pace up towards the door, before drawing to a careful, soundless step. Steel Shackle growled in his sleep, and Sunset froze.
He was a bulky stallion, and Sunset knew she would not fare well against him without her magic. All the more reason to stay silent.
Sunset spotted the ring of unicorn keys, all marked in bright gold, sitting on his desk.
Too easy.
She spoke too soon, however, when Steel Shackle’s eyes opened suddenly.
Sunset knew better than to bother with any excuses.
She rushed him while he was still half-asleep, tackling the broad-shouldered stallion right out of his chair.
Sunset considered calling for help, though she was too preoccupied struggling against Steel Shackle, who was now wide awake.
“You!”
Sunset wrestled with an enraged Steel Shackle, who quickly overpowered her, bending her front leg in the wrong direction and pinning her to the ground.
“You rat, trying to sneak up on me! Huh? You ought to know I’m a light sleeper, for next time. Not that there will ever be a next time, for you.”
Sunset groaned, when Steel Shackle began pushing down on her throat with all of his weight. It was as though an ox had been dropped on top of her, and her airway was completely shut. She could not even flail her limbs in desperation, as the warden had her completely secure beneath his grip.
Then the pressure shocked apart, and Sunset could gasp for breath again. She crawled forward, her entire body trembling. Her vision was blurry and she was coughing uncontrollably.
Glancing behind her, she saw Steel Shackle, keeled over on the floor, blood draining out from a bludgeoned gash in his head, like a cracked egg.
Sunset was morbidly enthused, and then saw Trixie holding onto a blood-covered fire extinguisher, having intervened in the nick of time.
“Nice work,” Sunset said, choking up a glob of spit onto Steel Shackle.
Trixie retrieved the golden keys from Steel Shackle’s belt, triumphant.
“We did it!” she exclaimed.
Punctuating her proclamation of victory, however, was the blaring sound of the prison alarm; neither Sunset nor Trixie had noticed Steel Shackle behind them lift himself up from the floor, slamming the emergency red button sitting atop his control panel desk.
Steel Shackle collapsed again, though this time with a delirious, sinister smirk. He would have the last laugh after all.
The siren drowned out every inch of the prison, turning heads and sending every guard on high alert. Sunset and Trixie were both paralyzed, realizing that their small victory may not be worth celebrating.
Arriving at the end of the tunnel, Suri discovered Lightning in a bloody heap, and naturally she mistook her to have been killed. She was horrified, until the pegasus released a dull groan, muffled by her face pressed into the floor of the maintenance duct control room. Scampers leaped out of Suri’s hooves, clawing at Lightning’s face to see if she was alive. Lightning lay motionless.
“Um, excuse me. Now’s not the time to have a rest. Chip chop.”
Lightning mumbled something unintelligible, half of her face lying in a puddle of her own blood.
Suri was disgusted, mostly that she had stepped in another pony’s blood.
“It’s alright! You can come down!” Suri yelled into the musky tunnel to Starlight and Wallflower. But, cutting her invitation off mid-sentence, the tunnel door suddenly shut, and a red light began to flash.
The alarm made each of them cower slightly; the noise echoed through the cavernous ventilation ducts, and was running towards them from every direction.
“That’s not good,” Lightning muttered, wondering which of their accomplices was responsible for whatever that alarm was about.
Suri attempted to pull open the hatch.
“Locked,” Suri said, forlorn.
Suri pouted, uncertain whether she could finish the job with only Lightning and herself.
Despite being wildly out of her comfort zone, Suri dragged Lightning up to her hooves, though Lightning was barely responsive, having lost a decent amount of blood.
“We’ll have to find a way for them to get through here,” Suri insisted.
Lightning glared at her.
“Forget ‘em. There’s no way. We’ve got to bust out above ground. There’s nothing we can do,” Lightning said, faintly as she shifted in and out of consciousness. Suri was surprised that Lightning could still be so obstinate in her current condition.
Still, the offer was tempting. They might as well cut their losses.
Yet she did not budge, a part of her drawn towards going back for the others.
She would have to decide quickly, she knew; the clock was ticking.
Feathers of soot scratched through the sky overtop the surly streets of Manehattan. The rust of ages past, worn threads and remnants of bygone days, spelled memories of unspoken grandeur. Factory smog and the scent of exotic cuisine strutted through the streets like welcomed guests, while rainwater collected in the sewers and carriage horns raged at each other for the hell of it.
By the busy train station in the south side of the city, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were wondering how much longer Pinkie Pie would be. Idly, they watched beads of rain spill off the edge of the overhead pass hanging atop the exit stairwell. Ponies shoved past and between them, without a single ‘pardon me,’ to add insult to injury.
“I told her to go before we left,” Rainbow muttered, impatiently.
Right on cue, Pinkie reappeared through the crowd, almost out of thin air, startling the other two.
“Are we all good now?” Rainbow said.
“Sorry,” Pinkie said, smiling blissfully.
Rainbow nodded for them to follow her towards the cluttered stairwell, which led up to the ground level of the city.
“Twilight gave me the address of some incident the police think could be related to those criminals she was talking about,” Rainbow explained, wagging the briefcase of documents Twilight had given before seeing her off from Canterlot.
“I don’t know, Rainbow. Don’t you think this is, um, maybe just a little out of our league,” Fluttershy suggested.
Rainbow scoffed.
“Just because Twilight’s sitting on that throne and Chrysalis and Tirek and Cozy Glow are all frozen in stone, doesn’t mean we don’t still have a duty to Equestria,” Rainbow insisted.
“But Rainbow...I don’t want to end up like...oh, poor Rutherford! He didn’t deserve it!” Pinkie cried. She had never been prone to dwelling on tragedy, though the murder of her yak friend had certainly put a test to her positive resolve.
Fluttershy glared at Rainbow, as if she had intended to upset Pinkie.
“I know, Pinkie Pie. We’ve gotta make this right. Are you both still with me?” Rainbow asked.
Pinkie and Fluttershy nodded, though neither was free of their concerns.
Rainbow led them to a rundown neighborhood on 23rd Street, after an exhausting two-hour walk.
There they could see the wreckage of a burnt-down apartment complex, reduced to black ash and ruin.
“Excuse me,” Rainbow said, approaching a pony passerby.
“Huh?” the pedestrian said.
“What happened here?”
The pony shot her a look of contempt.
“Take a guess, bird, the place got smoked,” the pedestrian replied.
“Was it just an accident?” Fluttershy hoped.
“Sure, if you’d like to think that. Word is there was a bad deal with the Hoof over in there. Went south fast, don’t know how everypony got out though. Might have been a setup, who knows. Can you move outta the way now? I got places to be,” the pedestrian said, attempting to walk around the ponies obnoxiously standing in his path on the sidewalk.
Rainbow cut him off once again.
“The Hoof?” she asked, confused.
He glared at her.
“What are you, some idiot?"
“We’re not from around here, mister, no need to be mean,” Pinkie said.
The pony rolled his eyes.
“The Black Hoof runs this side of town. Come out of 57th Avenue, the old Lucitech place. It’s wrecked, don’t go around there, you Luna-damn tourists. You oughta mind your business when it comes to them, or you’ll end up like those bodies they found in that fire there,” the pedestrian said, nodding over to the destroyed apartment building.
He forcefully shoved past them, leaving the trio to contemplate their options.
“Looks like we’ve got our destination,” Rainbow said.
“...This sounds dangerous,” Fluttershy said.
“Look at what those thugs did to this place! They’re definitely the ones behind everything!” Rainbow said.
“...Maybe we should talk to Twilight before we do anything crazy,” Pinkie suggested.
Rainbow shook her head.
“There’s no time. Now come on. We’re getting to the bottom of this.”
Rainbow aggressively spun around to head towards 57th Avenue, and Fluttershy and Pinkie took a few moments before reluctantly joining after her.
The stench of imported cider and cigarettes overwhelmed him as he followed in the front door after the giant stallion.
For the past few days, Blondie and Salt Shaker had been working together on numerous jobs of varying intensity. And each time they had returned, the Den served as a reliable, if not tense, safe haven from the dangers of the city.
But today, those grey peeling walls were stained by the orange light of magnificent chandeliers, teetering to the elegant music crying out into the spacious foyer hall.
There was a devil over every shoulder, and vice reigned unopposed.
Laughter, the pouring of booze, and the clicking of lighters fought against the music for domination of the airwaves.
The crowd of ponies inside were breathing in the warm bubbly air, amidst toasts and feasts, and limitless pursuits of pleasure. There was no shame, no reservation, only utter mayhem painted over by a guise of elegance.
The crowd was dressed for the occasion, in suits and dresses, contrasting their boorish behavior and drunken disregard. Litter and cigarettes burns covered the carpet floor.
“What’s happened?” Blondie asked, confused.
“I’ve not the slightest,” Salt Shaker replied, also at a loss.
“Old Salt! Hello there!”
Tumbling out from the crowd came the sleek-haired Crozer, with some flakes of white powder trickling out from his nose and a dizzy derangement in his eyes.
“Where’ve you been? I was gonna send some of the boys after you, I thought you’d left me. I thought you’d betrayed me. We were gonna cut your throat open,” Crozer said, laughing hysterically. He was glad to be wrong.
But Salt Shaker was not laughing.
“I didn’t know we would be having guests tonight,” Salt Shaker said, dryly.
Crozer eyed him, still smiling, and then gave him a look of anticipation.
“Wait, you haven’t heard?”
Salt Shaker raised an eyebrow.
Crozer practically fell back off his hooves laughing.
“You old codger, wait until you hear this! We found out today that some sinister son of a bitch went into Ponyville and sliced through every creature who ever had it out for us. Filibuster? The bronco-busting bastard? Dead. Lady Parie, that conniving high-born bitch? Dead. The captain of the royal guard too!”
Salt Shaker glanced at Blondie, who also had no idea of such events.
“Trench and the Underground had their hooves dug deep in those rats' pockets. Now he's got eight less friends to bail him out. Rightfully, it calls for celebration. Which is what brings every slack-jawed hoodlum…” Crozer said, before catching the eye of a particularly’ well-groomed mare strutting past, “and fair lady,” he continued, nabbing up her hoof and kissing it. She smirked back towards him, before disappearing into the crowd. “...to our home. I’m sorry if you wanted a peaceful night’s sleep, Old Salt. There’s always tomorrow.”
Crozer noticed Blondie standing off to the side, and crept closer.
“And you, Blondie. Why so glum? Have a drink,” he offered, poaching a pint of ale off of a passing server’s tray.
“No thanks,” Blondie spat.
Crozer shrugged off Blondie’s reprehension towards him, and kept the pint for himself.
“And you wonder why you’re miserable. Dirty bastard.”
Crozer laughed again and sped back into the heart of the crowd, leaving Salt Shaker and Blondie stunned.
“I was once hired to hunt down Bronze Beam, and put a bullet in his head. He was more of a challenge than I anticipated, I barely escaped with my life,” Salt Shaker said, staring off into space, “Whoever could do such a thing, must be the deadliest creature in Equestria.”
While Salt Shaker was shaking his head in reverent disbelief, Blondie was teetering on lashing out against him, against anypony, really.
"Not one for parties?" Salt wondered.
“Killing ponies is one thing. Dancing on their graves is another.”
Salt Shaker titled his head, possibly in agreement.
But he said nothing, and attempted to decide whether he would be settling for the Mermaid Tears draft or the imported Newt's Eye.
Blondie scoffed.
“I’m getting some air,” Blondie muttered storming off.
Blondie escaped the blaring noise from inside the Den, his ears still rattling.
Walking down a few blocks, ignoring the lurking stares of the many homeless living in poverty, he avoided turning back.
He eventually came to a stop by an intersection, leaned against a lamppost and stuck a wad a cigarette in his mouth.
He considered running, and never turning back, though he remembered what Salt Shaker had said.
There’s nowhere we won’t find you.
And though he could call the giant’s bluff and attempt to make a run for it; he still had no idea where Brandy was, or even if she was alive. He thought of her, of her smile, of her eyes, of her dirtied blue dress and her black boots, and her defiance. She had to be stronger than him, he thought, to have tried to break free. Where was he but right to where he started, where he had fought to carve out a new better life for himself. But that life was empty still. Perhaps he was never meant to change.
“Don’t move.”
Blondie’s ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a mare’s voice from behind him.
He ignored her, turning around to be introduced to a trio of brightly-colored ponies.
“I said don’t move,” Rainbow Dash said, hoping she would not have to get violent.
“Who are you?” Blondie asked.
“We saw you leave from that place. Where the Black Hoof comes from,” Rainbow said.
Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy stood slightly farther back, allowing Rainbow to take the interrogative lead, “You work for them?”
“Not by choice,” Blondie said, continuing to huff on his cigarette.
“You know anything about what happened in Ponyville?” Rainbow said.
Blondie was not sure what she was talking about for a moment.
“You mean Filibuster and Paramount being…”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I just heard.”
“Yeah right. And how’d you get those bruises, buster?” Pinkie asked, skeptically.
“That’s a long story. And if you really want to know, these ponies don't have nothing to do with that.”
Rainbow’s shoulders fell, as did her confidence.
“I’m only stuck working for them.”
Rainbow shook her head back and forth, deciding she was unconvinced.
“I think we’ll be taking you in for more questions,” Rainbow said, approaching him.
“Forget it. You’re not cops.”
“Don’t make this difficult on yourself.”
But before Rainbow Dash could dart through the air to sucker punch Blondie in the face, a sharpened silver blade came spinning out from the darkness, landing squarely in the lamppost with the courtesy of a distinct “thunk” sound.
“You all shouldn’t be playing this late. It’s way past your bedtime,” Salt Shaker warned, stepping out into the light.
Rainbow took two steps back, taking in the immense size of the stallion slowly stomping towards her.
“Blondie. We’re leaving,” he said, scoldingly.
Blondie glared at Rainbow Dash and stormed off from the scene, leaving Rainbow and the others once again a step behind. He huffed on his cigarette a final time before tossing it into a sewer grate, as the smoke drifted off with him into the black.
The leaves of the Silkwood were beginning to turn, responding to the cooler breeze rolling over the hills beyond. Storm clouds hovered far over the mountains, like ghosts keeping watch over the world below. Or perhaps they were spectators, to the first strikes of lightning that would ignite a fire greater than the likes of anything prior.
The woods stretched out from the shadow of the Smoky Mountains, ancient towers of dense rock standing guard over the misty forests below. In the center west of the Highlands, the woods stood among the Big Willow, the Little Willow, and the other, less noteworthy rivers that fed into the North Lunar Sea, by way of Seaward Sholes.
There were a few settlements here and there, and some homesteads and farms, but for the most part, the woods were undisturbed, and the wild creatures and plants lived freely.
The major exception to that serenity of nature was the grand palace overlooking the forest, also called SIlkwood, belonging to one Lady Lavender. Velvet spires rose up past the canopy, in the center of the forest.
“This should be no trouble. In and out,” Bandolier had said to the others before their departure from Canterlot. The woods could be trouble, and the palace itself was well-guarded. With paranoia rearing its ugly head around each and every corner, Amity could not help but fear Bandolier would be mistaken.
They had a third companion traveling through the woods with them, a stallion called Flamberge. He stood a whole head taller than Bandolier, who was by no means short. A soldier in the royal guard, he bore a fiery head of red hair, and a pale blue coat. He had come into the service of Alias years ago, serving as the Erased's chief informant in the royal guard.
Bandolier was not sure why Alias had assigned the soldier to travel alongside them; his best guess was to ensure nopony could blame the Erased alone for any unexpected catastrophe. Or perhaps Alias did not trust him with the job, after all.
The trio of ponies had been made to wear sleek, all black suits, customary for special assignments. They stood out in the sun-scattered forest, though once night fell, they would be difficult to spot.
Bandolier had avoided the main roads that wound through the woods, preferring not to let Lavender, or anypony else for that matter, know that they're coming.
“What if she doesn’t want to leave with us?” Amity asked, trotting over the floor of dead red leaves.
“She won’t have a choice,” Flamberge answered, bluntly.
Amity glanced at Bandolier, who was reluctant to answer his starry-eyed subordinate.
“We're doing this to protect her,” he said, though he hardly believed his own words.
“But don’t you think she’d be safer where she is? Instead of dragging her to the middle of everything?” Amity asked, "Canterlot's not safe."
Flamberge, who rarely had to work alongside Erased field agents, was beginning to become irritated.
“The orders are to retrieve her and bring her back to Canterlot. That’s all you should be worried about.”
Bandolier spoke nothing to the contrary, though a part of him held reservations over Flamberge’s blind submission to authority.
“Lavender might know something we don’t," Bandolier said, "We should all be relaxed, there’s no need to frighten her. She’s done nothing wrong. We’re just trying to keep her safe.”
“I’ll be the one keeping her safe. You Erased rats are the ones who got us into this mess. Isn’t it your job to prevent these things from happening?” Flamberge asked, glaring at Bandolier.
“Some things you can't prepare for," Bandolier said, regretfully.
“That’s what I can’t understand. Nopony ever wants to take responsibility. If you’re going to agree to do a job, you better well do it. That goes for you too, miss cheerleader. I know you were the one supposed to protect that Yak prince. Well done, another one bites the dust.”
“Take it easy,” Bandolier said, defensively stepping between a red-faced Amity and a hostile Flamberge.
"Ember, Thorax, Posh...You knew that they were all in correspondence with each other," Flamberge spat, "You knew that they were up to something. But you couldn't find out what. Well, somepony else did. If you had been quicker, if you had done your job, they'd still be alive."
"I can't change the past," Bandolier said, "More ponies may be at risk, including Lavender."
Flamberge scoffed.
“This time I’ll be sure everything goes according to plan,” Flamberge assured, puffing his chest out.
Bandolier sighed through his nose, and kept his eyes shooting straight forwards. The last thing he wanted then was a brutish hothead spitting doubts into the back of his brain, but it seemed no one could always get what they wanted.
The trio continued deeper into the forest, the sparkling tips of Lavender’s palace spires harking their arrival from the treeline.
Eyelids heavy and back aching, Alias reviewed the stack of documents sitting on his desk one last time before giving in and calling it for the night.
No progress, no luck.
The control center of the Erased’s Canterlot base was empty except for him now, a single halogen lamp illuminating the dark dungeon buried several stories beneath the earth.
“Why bother wasting your time with all that?”
Alias nearly fell out of his chair, when the gravelly voice of Detective Gore came rattling out from the darkness.
“How did you get in here?" Alias yelled, rising to his hooves. The compound was supposed to be the most secure place in Equestria, after all.
“Peddling around the truth won’t save any lives, Alias,” the griffin detective muttered, his hat and coat revealing themselves out of the shadows. His talons scraped the floor, and his face was weary and grieved.
“What have you found? I haven’t heard from you in days,” Alias said.
Gore raised his head, golden irises reflecting the lamplight, shining like torches.
“We’ve reached the same conclusion, have we not?”
Alias glared at him, uncertain what he was getting at.
Gore sighed.
“Whose ceremony brought them all together? Whose silence has been the most puzzling? Who would have the ambition, the drive, the capability? There was only ever one answer. Only nobody could possibly have the heart to acknowledge it.”
“Lucky for us you haven’t got a heart,” Alias said, lowering his head.
Gore hesitated, waiting for Alias to give in.
Alias shook his head regretfully.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Alias said, astounded. “...What would you have me do? If it was her, we have no idea as to why. And we can't do much without knowing that. The way things are now, if it gets out that it was her, there would be riots, there would be chaos! More death and destruction, more than anyone could possibly control or contain!” Alias exclaimed.
“That all depends on how we react," Gore said, "First, not everyone may be allowed to know. We no longer know exactly who we can trust. There could be accomplices. Allies. Spies. Who knows? We must be cautious.”
Alias nodded his head in agreement.
“I think it's best to let Cadance know," Gore continued, "I spoke with her the other day. By my own judgment, she has no idea of what her sister-in-law has done. Which means she may be our only hope - only Cadance could be powerful enough to stop her. Celestia and Luna are both missing, as you know, and even if we found them, they're getting old. Their power is withering. Meanwhile Twilight seems to get stronger every day."
“This is too drastic, Gore, even for you. Challenging whatever game Twilight is playing could jeopardize the peace she’s allowed for the meantime.”
“How much longer before she finishes what she’s started? This may not be over. We might as well intervene while we’re able,” Gore argued.
"And what exactly has she started? Knowing she's the culprit isn't enough for us to make the first move. For all we know those creatures could have had it coming."
Gore laughed in disbelief.
"Listen to yourself. Content to bury the truth if it means staying on Twilight's good side," Gore snarled, "She might have gone mad. She might have seen them as a threat. She might have wanted revenge. Perhaps all of those, all at once."
Alias shook his head, discouraged by Gore's certainty.
"Twilight Sparkle has endured against many of Equestria's greatest enemies. Not once had she ever resorted to this kind of violence, of cruelty. This is not in her nature," Alias pointed out.
"She isn't being possessed, if that's what you're getting at," Gore said, glad to dismiss such an idea, "I spoke with her, recently. She knows what she's done. She is conscious of it all, and of all the lies that have come since. And she even has a plan to control the damage. She told me as much herself, probably hoping it would be enough to deter me from pressing the investigation."
Alias glanced at the ground, again distraught to have lost another plausible excuse.
"Why?
"To have been driven to such lengths...Only a few possibilities come to mind," Gore continued, "To spare Equestria from a terrible fate, perhaps, one in which the only means of salvation lay in that bloody sacrifice. Or, she might have come to crack under the weight of her own crown, and, in a state of emotional unrest, something triggered her wrath."
"A threat to her friends, to her loved ones?" Alias proposed.
"Perhaps," Gore shrugged, "We ought to begin with the circumstantial suspects - those who might have had something to do with the murders, as a witting or unwitting accomplice. Lady Lavender, Mayor Mare, Starlight Glimmer, Princess Celestia, and Princess Luna. One of them is bound to provide a lead."
"Starlight Glimmer has disappeared. So has Celestia and Luna. Perhaps Twilight got to them all first," Alias said, "I've sent three agents to bring in Lavender. Mayor Mare might be harder to catch....Why not Cadance?"
Gore glared at him.
"Cadance is the only pony in all of Equestria who I trust is not an accomplice. We need to make her an asset, immediately, before Twilight finds a chance to put a leash on her."
"That would mean telling her everything," Alias shuddered, "Otherwise her loyalties would remain with Twilight."
"Precisely," Gore said.
Alias shook his head, hardly willing to humor such an idea.
"On the off-chance that Cadance even listens to us," Alias growled, "Twilight might already have a plan for this. Public opinion is in her favor. Nopony aside from the two of us has even an inkling of suspicion. To levy such an accusation, to turn a princess into our accomplice, would be playing all of our cards on the first move. Whatever her reason, it is clear that turning Cadance to our side this early would risk setting Twilight onto another warpath. Equestria would soon find itself at civil war. "
Gore sighed, disappointed with Alias' apparent lack of foresight.
"The war is inevitable." Gore said, plainly. Alias' eyes widened, horrified at Gore's unflinching conviction.
"It's been inevitable, ever since the murders. Twilight knows this. She likely knew before she even drew first blood."
"No," Alias stammered, "You're sensationalizing. The situation is normal."
"It will be, for a time," Gore said, "Twilight plans to present a culprit, at some point. Otherwise the other kingdoms will declare outright war, and Equestria will go up in flames. Her culprit will likely be one of her own accomplices. That may satisfy the changelings, the hippogriffs, and even all of Equestria. But the dragons are a different story. If the dragons do get the tase of war, Twilight will be glad to unite the other kingdoms against a common enemy and crush them. Still, there might be more I don't know yet. This may only be the beginning of what she's planning. Her enemies may be gathering, even now. I've been sure of it since Ponyville. Blood will have blood."
Alias slammed his hoof on the table.
“I don't believe you. I will not risk starting a war. Not like this. And you will not tell a soul of any of this. Especially Cadance.”
Gore snarled, though Alias was undeterred.
“You play with lives like they’re meaningless. Your cowardice is exactly what Twilight needs to get what she wants, whatever that is. We’ll be playing into her plan.”
Alias was unwilling to falter, however, and nodded towards the door.
“Get out. And if you’re as smart as you think, then never come back.”
Gore scoffed in disbelief, and stomped back into the darkness, leaving Alias alone once more.
Alias fell back into his chair, and pushed the stack of files to the edge of the table. He reached for a cigarette, but his box was empty.
Red light flooded the frozen corridors of Hellhatch Penitentiary.
“Something’s gone wrong,” Starlight muttered, sprinting around a corner. Wallflower, who was not quite as athletically inclined as Starlight, trailed behind, gasping for breath.
Once the vault doors’ emergency lock had sealed, Starlight had been forced to reorganize the plan. They were all separated from each other now, and Starlight could only hope that Trixie had found Sunset and that they had stolen Steel Shackle’s keys.
The blaring alarms, therefore, did not spell out any relief.
Wallflower felt like crying, as the deafening alarm shook her skull and disoriented her balance.
“This way,” Starlight whispered, leading Wallflower to a solid metal door at the end of the hallway.
Starlight tugged on the handle, though it refused to budge.
“Locked,” Starlight said, and began to turn around to look for another route.
“Wait,” Wallflower said, retrieving her stolen keycard.
The door buzzed open, to both ponies’ joy, though their celebration would be brief.
Stepping through the door, the ponies discovered the front foyer, and in it a sea of inmates crowded together, brawling, yelling, and scurrying in a jumbled mess of bodies.
“Looks like everypony else thought the same thing,” Wallflower said, between gasps for air.
“Come on, we can’t stop...We can still meet the others at the carriage yard from outside,” Starlight said.
Starlight tugged on Wallflower’s front leg, and together they entered the rioting crowd.
A line of guards carrying shields and batons met the crowd at one end of the facility foyer, enraging the inmates and inciting a deadly battle of brutality.
Starlight pushed forwards through the crowd, though at some point she lost track of Wallflower’s leg in the tumbling chaos.
“Wallflower!” Starlight yelled, though the noise of the crowd was too thunderous to be heard over.
Starlight spotted a stairwell leading to a series of catwalks above, and made her towards it.
Starlight’s hoof vanished, and Wallflower was left adrift in a sea of colliding bodies.
Avoiding her inclination to panic, Wallflower wound her way through the crowd, taking refuge behind the team of stallions attempting to bring down the front gate.
Wallflower kept out of sight, while the rioters pushed and hollered and heaved and roared; but no matter their efforts, the front gate would not budge.
Wallflower shrieked, when a bullet of pure sparkling white magic came beaming past her nose, striking a rioter in the back of his knee.
The stallion’s leg caved in, and he came crashing to the ground.
He would be joined by his compatriots soon enough, however, when the prison guards arranged in a row from behind them began launching their counter-assault on the rioters.
The unicorn guards fired their horns without ceasing, blasting apart rioters to pieces before they even knew what hit them.
But the crowd of inmates was too dense to be kept down for long, and those in the front that had survived the first wave took advantage of a temporary ceasefire for the guards to cool off their horns; the inmates rushed towards the guards, and the brawl was reignited.
Bullets whizzed and bodies flew across the room; fire and smoke engulfed the banisters and catwalks.
Wallflower, however, was deathly afraid of being blasted to bits, and she instead took to covering herself in the corpses of the inmates around her, hoping to remain unnoticed until the chaos would be relieved.
Breaking free of the crowd of rioters, Starlight, now a bit bruised and sweaty from nearly being trampled, climbed up the stairwell to the topmost catwalk, by a series of large barred windows. She recognized those windows as the front of the prison, and realized that she was in the front foyer.
Her eyes scanned the crowd below for Wallflower, though the curly-haired earth pony was nowhere to be seen.
But there was only so much time she could spend searching, and after five minutes Starlight forced herself to continue on alone.
She had to find a way to get outside, though without her magic that would prove a challenge.
She ran across the catwalks, passing by the barred windows, searching for some sort of weakness in the front wall she could exploit.
She found one, at last: a loose bar hanging from its socket over one of the windows.
She smiled, and prepared herself to make the jump through.
“Starlight?”
She stopped herself, spinning around to find Fuchs, wearing a neat officer’s uniform, a baton in hoof.
“What are you doing?”
“I...uh...I was just...um...,” Starlight said, struggling to reignite her faux flirtatious façade, “Fuchs…”
Fuchs glared at her, and Starlight noticed that light in his eyes had faded somewhat, and he almost appeared like a different pony. Harder. Crueler.
He crept towards her, steadily, as if she was some wild animal to be examined.
“What've you done?” he asked, glancing down at the rioters facing off against the guards
Starlight shuddered, as he drew closer. His hoof fell against her face, gently, and she wanted badly to pull away.
He noticed this, and held her closer towards him.
“You’re hurting me,” she muttered, as terror seized her heart. She had not yet considered that he may have had a change of heart, that he may be trying to kill her.
“Over here!” he yelled, raising his head viciously to a group of guards about to rush down a nearby stairway to aid in combating the rioters.
He glanced back down at her, betrayed, as he had once believed her to have truly cared for him. He understood then all that he was to her, and, broken in pieces as he was prior, he was locked around her, until death should either of them part.
But Starlight was not one for such romantics, especially since her clock was ticking.
The group of guards heard Fuchs’ cry, and rushed towards them, but Starlight knew better than to wait to be cornered.
Kicking back against the railing, she forced apart Fuchs’ grip and rammed him towards the other end.
Fuchs yelled in anger as he toppled over the railing, falling down below into the sea of rioters.
Starlight, though hoping she had not killed Fuchs, whom she pitied, did not look down to see whether he had lived through the fall.
The guards were nearly upon her, and she was forced to retreat back down the stairs she had come, hoping to discover another way out.
While the sirens cried, Sunset and Trixie wisely chose not to stick around Steel Shackle’s office.
Unlocking their horns, they both had to take a moment to welcome the intense relief of freedom.
“Our magic won’t come back for a few minutes, the effects have to wear off. Don’t try a spell. It’ll hurt. A lot,” Sunset warned.
They took off down the catwalks, not noticing as the roaring of the rioters somewhere below them intensified.
Sunset’s magic, though headache reaping, happened to return first.
“Trixie, navigate. I’ll handle the company,” Sunset said, “It’s finally time we warmed things up around here.”
For the first time in decades, the inmates of Hellhatch could not complain about the cold.
Fire swept every corridor they passed; Sunset’s horn was a fountain of fury. She aimed for every support structure, every barrack, every office she could find; there would be nothing but ash if she was to be left unhindered.
“The carriage yard should be around two corners, down the long path, make a right.”
Sunset was barely listening, focusing only on leaving as much destruction in her wake as possible.
The interior of the prison was ridden in flames that bled and seethed like savage animals, and could not be quenched.
Trixie led Sunset down a series of corridors, until they were right upon the carriage yard doors on the eastern side of the facility.
Sunset turned to keep an eye out for guards, while Trixie ran for the doors.
Trixie jostled the handles eight times, without success.
Sunset scoffed, and ignited her horn, preparing to blast down the door.
Her spell, however, did little against the surface of the door, disintegrating upon impact.
“Magic resistant. Of course,” Sunset said, tilting her head back in despair.
“Looks like we’re stuck here,” Trixie said.
Then the two of them were shaken alert, when they heard the distinct sound of marching hooves come bellowing out from around the corner.
“Do you hear that?” Trixie whispered, and she began to turn white.
Sunset had a deranged grin on her face.
“No problem. We’ll just hold them off,” Sunset said, glancing at Trixie to validate her plan.
“Right…” Trixie repeated, gulping down her fears, “N-no problem.”
They held their ground, as the guards drew closer, until the sound of their clacking hooves was so close Sunset believed they were right on top of them.
She tensed up, and her horn glowed brilliant turquoise once more.
The earth above them shook, as if a stampede of ponies was rushing past overhead.
“What is that?” Lightning muttered, while Suri helped her along through the maintenance tunnel.
“No idea,” Suri replied, struggling to keep Lightning from falling.
Lightning was leaking blood the whole way through the tunnel, and Suri knew that the guards would not have a hard time finding them if they were to only look. She was constantly checking behind them, past the dim service lights into the darkness. Every faint drop of water, or creak or cry, put Suri on high alert.
“Wait,” Lightning groaned, suddenly, after about fifteen minutes of trudging through the darkness.
Suri stopped, setting Lightning down to the ground. She needed the rest herself.
“We can’t stop for long, OK?” Suri said.
“We’d better not. This is it, I’m pretty sure. Right here. Check the map.”
Suri had not studied the map as carefully as Lightning had, and so was not sure whether she was right.
Pulling the tunnel map out of her jumpsuit, she inspected the pathways, and discovered that they were only a few meters away from the carriage yard.
“Close enough,” Suri said.
“You’d do well to take a step back. Once I get this thing set up, it’s going to be quite loud, OK,” Suri said, retrieving the makeshift bomb.
Lightning understood, crawling away from Suri, who began preparing the explosive.
“Ready?”
Lightning did not answer, as she was already plugging each ear with her hooves.
Suri took a deep breath, before pressing down on the detonator.
The cat was out of the bag.
On solid ground above, snow, dirt, and gravel came shooting up like a geyser, a fiery torrent driving the cloud of dust into the air.
Lightning and Suri were blinded by dust and dirt, and before either of them knew it the world fell to blackness.
Starlight checked behind her once more, and was distressed to see the guards were still giving chase.
She was out of breath, having ran around the winding series of catwalks while the rioters below kept on their rampage.
Cornered in a centerpoint fix, Starlight’s eyes darted back and forth to the guards encircling her, in front, behind, left, right. There was no escape.
But Suri’s bomb was stronger than any of the ponies had thought, and the stentorian cavalcade of ferocity was like an earthquake, rattling the catwalks right out of their foundations.
While the guards were losing their balance, Starlight felt the strip of metal she was standing on begin to swing downwards, having been shaken loose from its screws.
The guards in front of her rushed towards her, and, without much time to mull it over, Starlight climbed onto the railing and launched herself forward, while the catwalk spiraled down into the unsuspecting crowd below.
She landed hard against her side, though luckily she was relatively unscathed.
But she could not get up in time, while the rioters managed to force the front gate open, with the help of the earth-trembling explosion from outside.
Starlight felt hooves trample over her as if she was another lifeless corpse, and she screamed and gasped for breath, but there was nopony to hear her.
Then a hoof found her through the rowdy crowd of rioters running out through the gate to freedom, and it pulled her out towards some of the burning rubble.
“Wallflower!” Starlight said, wiping dust from her face, relieved.
“We haven’t got much time. They may not have left yet!” Wallflower exclaimed, helping Starlight back to her hooves.
They followed the rioters out through the front gate, but were deterred to press on, at the sight of the mound of bodies stacking up.
Turrets from the battlement walls had opened fire, laying waste to any poor pony that was caught outside in the snow.
“This way!” Starlight said, pulling Wallflower away from the stream of rioters running to their deaths.
Starlight led them to a hole she had spotted in the fencing, leading towards the eastern side of the facility.
Suri awakened to blinding white light, and a mouthful of dirt.
Lightning Dust was lying next to her, having just managed to lift herself and Suri out from the dirt they were buried alive under. Scampers was alive too, covered in dirt, but alive.
“You saved me,” Suri said, between coughs, “Is it too late to say I was wrong about you?” she asked.
Lightning scowled.
“Don’t mention it. To anypony.”
Suri shrugged, indifferent.
They picked themselves up and took a look around.
“Guards will be here soon. We should leave. Now,” Lightning said, limping towards the carriages parked nearby, with Scampers perched on her back.
They had made it to the yard, precisely as planned. Lightning spotted the library carriage, a banner with ‘Bookmark’s Emporium’ in bold written across it.
But this time Suri did not go along with Lightning, and she stood as she was in the snow.
“What’s the matter with you? We can’t stay here,” Lightning said.
Suri raised an eyebrow.
Lightning’s scowl hardened.
“They’re dead weight now. We try to go back, and we’ll end up the same. Let’s cut our losses, and get out of here while we can.”
Suri shook her head.
“Neither of us are well enough now to pull that carriage. We need them,” she said.
Lightning stared at her, and then cursed under her breath.
“...I’ll get the carriage ready. You go inside and look for them.”
Suri nodded, and promptly turned to leave.
“Wait,” Lightning said, “Hand me that bag.”
Suri glanced down at her bag, which still contained the two remaining bombs.
Suri conceded the bag over to lightning, deciding to accommodate her so long as she would go along with helping the others.
The guards' numbers never seemed to deplete, no matter how many Sunset and Trixie shot down with their magic.
Trixie had avoided killing anypony, resorting to mild stun-blasts; in contrast Sunset’s fury only worsened, as the guards kept on pouring out towards them pressed against the carriage yard door.
“Upstairs!” Sunset yelled, nodding up towards a nearby stairwell.
There was a series of platforms held firmly against the walls that led into a wide, open storage facility.
“There’s too many!” Trixie cried, running backwards up the stairs while she and Sunset continued holding the onslaught of guards back.
Suri reached the door into the facility, and peered through the window, hoping to find Starlight, or Trixie, or even Wallflower Blush.
But all she saw were bodies, and more guards rushing in from around a corner and up a nearby stairwell.
Suri jumped back, and could not move again; she had not considered that the others may all be dead, that maybe Lightning was right and they should leave while they still drew breath.
Suri ran away from the door back towards the carriage, expecting to find Lightning. But the pegasus was gone.
She wondered if she could make it out if on her own, if there was any point to going back for the others. She shut her eyes tight, and the pressure then swallowed her up entirely.
On the other side of that door, the last of the guards filed in around the field of corpses left by Sunset. And the last to enter was Steel Shackle, blood running down his head, part of his skull visible for all to see.
The guards fell silent, and the warden glanced at one, who meekly pointed upwards to the platforms above.
The warden snickered and stormed towards the stairwell.
Sunset and Trixie were now back against back, frantically firing with everything they had.
Sunset’s maniacal method was broken, however, when Steel Shackle came galloping out from the row of guards, tackling Sunset to the ground.
Trixie was now holding off the guards in either direction, while Steel Shackle gained the upper hand over Sunset.
He dug his hooves into her throat, and she tried to scream, but her vocal chords were too compressed for any sound to escape.
Trixie was beginning to slip, and the guards moved closer.
Then glass came spraying out from the adjacent window, welcoming Lightning Dust, in flight once more.
Lightning barreled through not only the glass but the metal bars too, suffering some major bruises to her face and chest. She had one of Suri’s bombs in hoof, tossing it over to the group of guards to Trixie’s right.
“Watch out!” yelled one, but it was far too late.
The explosion sent everypony flying back, while part of the platform gave out and began to collapse.
The explosion had ruptured one of the nearby gas tanks, and a second explosion blew apart the rest of the platform.
Steel Shackle, with a chunk of his head dented in, was still intent on bringing Sunset down with him, grabbing a hold of her back hoof as she held onto the attached portion of the platform, while the rest began to succumb to the fires and subsequent pocket explosions.
“You’ll never be free of me,” Steel Shackle yelled, while Sunset readjusted her grip, “I’ll find you, wherever you go!” he bellowed.
Sunset glared down at him, while the fires raged brighter.
“No you won’t.”
Sunset kicked down with her other back leg, and broke Steel Shackle’s grip loose.
The warden fell thirty feet into those fires screaming, and disappeared beneath the flames right as another gas tank was set ablaze.
Sunset pulled herself up onto the sturdy part of the platform, where Trixie and Lightning Dust were.
“Is she alright?” Sunset asked, glancing down at Lightning Dust, who was bloodied and bruised and currently unconscious.
“She’s breathing,” Trixie said, and was not sure if that counted.
Sunset glanced around at the storage warehouse, and was amazed, as the entire facility seemed to be going up in flames. All of their escapes seemed to be cut off by the fires, and their safe spot would not last for long.
“Well, I guess it couldn’t get much worse than this.”
The platform beneath them then gave a response, a heart-stopping creak and a snap of a bolt, and in a flash the platform came crashing down into the flames below.
Sunset and Trixie were screaming all the way, when the platform landed on solid ground.
They were not yet engulfed in flame, though Sunset did notice a distressing number of guards noticing them from the ground level.
Sunset shot down two to begin with, and then spun around to blast a hole through the wall, which, to her relief, was not magic resistant.
The wall was vaporized on impact, carving a hole large enough for a carriage to fit through.
“Trixie! Get Lightning out! Go!” Sunset yelled, while she continued firing at the guards running towards them.
Trixie lifted Lightning up by her front leg, and dragged her out into the snow; she was taken aback by the feeling, but was only glad not to be burned alive.
Then Trixie came to a sudden halt, when the sound of tumbling debris broke out from behind her.
Trixie spun around and saw the hole now filled, the building having caved in upon itself.
Trixie gasped, horrified.
“Trixie!”
Trixie turned and saw Starlight and Wallflower marching through the snow towards them. Their smiles quickly faded at the sight of Lightning’s half-dead body, and Sunset’s absence.
“She’s still in there, Starlight! She’s alive, I know it!”
Starlight looked over at the collapsed building, and her hopes were dwindling.
“Let’s go,” Starlight said.
Trixie threw Starlight the keys to her horn lock, which Starlight immediately used to free herself.
Starlight, Wallflower, and Trixie with Lightning Dust, reached the piled-up debris, and none were sure where to even start.
“There!” Wallflower exclaimed, pointing at a spot in the rubble.
Wallflower dug through the rock and metal, and found what she had seen a glimpse of: Sunset’s hoof, stained grey by dust.
Wallflower pulled Sunset’s limp body out from the rubble, laying her out in the snow.
“Is she…?” Starlight asked.
Wallflower slowly bent down to feel for a pulse, until Sunset coughed up some dust directly into Wallflower’s face.
“Some way to say thank you,” Wallflower muttered.
“What more did you expect?” Sunset replied, weakly smiling.
Wallflower smiled back.
Then she shrieked in agony, and fell forwards to her chest, when a magic bullet flew directly through her leg.
Starlight threw herself in front of the others, and began blocking the guards’ shots with a defensive bubble of bright blue magic.
Sunset crawled over to Wallflower, who was reeling in pain.
“What do we do?” Sunset asked, dizzy and damaged.
Starlight lacked an answer, simply igniting her horn and waiting for the guards to get on her bad side.
But luckily they were spared from that, when a carriage labeled ‘Bookmark’s Emporium’ came rolling down the hill past where Starlight and the others were, running down four guards in the process.
It was Suri who appeared from behind the carriage, covered in dirt and bruises, but smiling nonetheless.
“Unless you plan on sticking around here, I suggest we should be leaving, OK?”
“Way ahead of you,” Starlight replied.
Trixie helped dump Lightning in the passengers’ compartment, alongside Wallflower. Suri hung back with them both to keep an eye on their condition, while Starlight and Trixie quickly attached themselves to the harnesses.
Sunset took it upon herself to lay on top of the compartment, dusting herself off as if she had not just been nearly crushed to death.
Starlight glanced at Trixie, who was stretching her legs out in the snow.
“I told you we’d make it,” Starlight said.
“We’re not out yet,” Trixie corrected.
The two of them began to gain their stride, before taking off into a full sprint towards the external gate.
A slick left turn stuck them in line with the departure gate, while the carriage endured a barrage of guards’ fire from the rear.
Sunset answered them with a firestorm of her own, laying waste to everything they left behind them.
“Don’t stop!” Starlight yelled, while the carriage continued gaining momentum.
Approaching the gate, Sunset blasted it open, while Starlight shot down the two guards stationed nearby, knocking each unconscious.
Sunset found the last bomb in Suri’s bag, activated it, and threw it up at one of the battlement walls.
The wall broke apart into pieces, guards falling off into the icy moat below.
And, with the road ahead clear, they continued pulling the carriage forward, without breaking pace, and never looking back.
Everything was precisely in order.
His notes were priceless, detailing every interaction he had overheard, every interview, quote, and theory, everything he could possibly gather that led to his fateful conclusion.
Twilight Sparkle was a murderer.
Gore tucked his notebook in his briefcase, and continued on his leisurely stroll through the streets of the Crystal Empire.
Of course, he knew that he was being followed.
Since he had first left Canterlot, he noticed those watchful eyes, those black suits, those familiar faces.
He was marked.
Or at least, he would be, if he made one step out of line.
Curiously, he appeared unphased by this breach of privacy. He was beyond that now. Beyond his own chance at life, should it mean living while justice crumbles and more innocents perish.
He never believed in the Erased, nor the royal authority either for that matter. Knowing that Equestria’s princess was the monster her own minions were searching for, was more so a cruel joke than a horrifying discovery.
He had accepted it then, that these breaths would be his last. His life had been devoted to justice, and thus so would his death. The secret could not linger in the Erased’s vault, nor could it die with him. Something had to be done.
He snuck into the Crystal palace as he always had, through some air vents and around some less-visited corridors.
On the royal family’s personal floor, he planted the notebook squarely on Cadance’s desk, and disappeared back into the shadows.
He passed by Flurry Heart’s room, and he was comforted, knowing that there might someday be redemption for the crown. He could not imagine what the future would hold otherwise. And besides, he knew he would not be able to see it for himself.
All it took was twenty-five steps out from the palace steps, when he felt a sharp prick in his neck, and the world had fallen to darkness.
He breathed his last while face down on the city streets, and he dared not beg for mercy. He went with ease, knowing that justice might prevail.